The Dirty Little Secret

I am here writing and I cant seem to formulate the words to describe what exactly I am feeling other than depressed as all hell.  Its not like the world is ending, its not like I dont have my little distractions around.  (Namely Baboo)  but I am craving something but dont know what it is.  Yes I do but I dont want to be Baker Acted. 

I felt something alien to me tonight, jealousy, brought on by the lack of attention and I **HATE** myself for even feeling it.  I was just not in the mood to discuss anything just actually wanted a good hug but that wasnt possible.  Other things have taken priority it would appear. 

Why should I feel that pang of thinking I was entitled to something?  Fuck, its not like I own all hugs. 

Between the browbeating I am receiving from Domabee I am beating myself up over previous questions regarding success. 

Tomorrow I have the Dr to go to, get poked in the girly places, leave a lot less bloodier and crave bleu steak for a week.  Lovely.. tests for STD’s, liver, kidney, thyroid, blood sugar here I come! 

I feel alone and I dont want to be alone.  I call and leave a message and well I dont get called back.  Sometimes you want an ear, want to learn to speak and then well where are those people that volunteered at times?  heh, happy with everyone else. 

I fucked up when I started seeing Domabee again.  I know this and I do take responsibility.  Just wish it were no so lonely. 

Keep me screaming people for I dont know what else I can say.  I can have tons of guilt but there is no forgiveness, no understanding. 

I feel like I am missing something, that I have neglected a detail and here I will be aching for the longer because of it. 

I fear my meds are losing again, that I am losing again and will end up being the pathetic creature that gets taken in by a con again.  Narrowly missed it this time. 

I fear bowing to seduction rather than being level in my head, essentially fucking up again.

Ahh fuck it I quit dating or trying.

Give me a competent lover that will let me be all gooshy sometimes and that should work, enough to keep my ego from totally deflating.

I carry no illusions I do not think that I will ever be in love again or truely be loved in the romantic sense.  I carry too much baggage, illness and cynism to be appealing other than a turn in the bed.  I’m not the girl a fella wants to show off to his friends or mama.  I am the dirty lil secret. 

I should chose not to care about that.  Somehow I do.